


Portrait of the Genius as a Young Man

by kinky_kneazle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-16
Updated: 2011-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-29 21:33:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinky_kneazle/pseuds/kinky_kneazle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus finds the life of a hermit suits him well, but at Beltane, he can't help wishing for more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Portrait of the Genius as a Young Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Misbehavingmom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misbehavingmom/gifts), [kitty_fic](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=kitty_fic).



> I hope no one minds me turning the year on its head; I'm only two weeks out from Beltane here, and wanted to write something in it's honour. This was written for the Daisychain Challenge and is dedicated to misbehavingmom for forcing me to write Dumbledore (through the rules of the challenge), and kitty_fic for encouraging me when I decided to pair him with Albus Potter. With much love to kitty_fic for the quick beta to make sure I wasn't writing anything too idiotic. Also, the Dumbledore in this fic is not the one from the books. It is the young Dumbledore seen in [this artwork](http://s3.amazonaws.com/data.tumblr.com/tumblr_l8vmj2bQTp1qcd5qso1_1280.jpg?AWSAccessKeyId=AKIAJ6IHWSU3BX3X7X3Q&Expires=1318833410&Signature=5NduMpoAsHRj%2BnRxxbF4iSIQpvQ%3D) by caladan_dd

Albus Dumbledore was experimenting in reclusiveness. Had been for two years now. He found he rather enjoyed it. Magic could make even a cave habitable, and he had more than that: a little cottage by the woods. Despite how harsh the winters were this close to the North Sea, he had furs and warming charms. Best of all, he had solitude – and time. Time to do his experiments. Time to walk the hills of Scotland in only a kilt, looking dark and mysterious. Time to remember why he couldn't go back.

His brother thought it had gone on long enough. "Time to get over yourself and come home," he'd written. But Albus stayed away. Even his friends had begged for his return, enticing him with promises of parties and renown and even an introduction to Nicholas Flamel.

Albus ignored them all.

What they didn't know was that he _had_ to stay away. London held temptations which he'd proven he could not resist; his infatuation with Gellert Grindelwald had cost him his sister. What would the next pretty face steal from him?

So, he continued to stay hidden, avoiding the villages and huts and staying to himself, even when he overheard travellers speaking of the crazy man that walked the mountains. A hermit's life was perfect for him.

Still, at moments like this, when the New Year was dawning and he knew the people in his world would be celebrating the new magic and new life coming in to the world with a visit to the fires, he missed company. He was alone, in the small circle of stones which had been ruins for as long as the Founders had been alive, he'd wager. As the sun set, Beltane began and Albus found himself wishing, rather helplessly, for company. No one pretty, or handsome. A woman, maybe, who would be no temptation. Just someone willing to spend an evening speaking the old rituals and sharing some of the fine fowl he'd managed to procure for a feast. Someone to talk to, so he could reassure himself that he hadn't forgotten how to speak.

He threw a handful of herbs on the fire, delighted when the smoke became a dense cloud of grey as it was supposed to. Then there was a flash, which was completely unexpected. Some strange magic was happening, and he drew his wand from the belt at his hip.

The smoke cleared and he could see a man on the other side of the fire. Short, but well-built, with strange Muggle clothing and messy black hair. It seemed Beltane was working some magic of its own and had seen fit to grant his wish. He stepped around the fire, ready to introduce himself, but hesitated when he finally got a clear look at the boy.

Merlin. He was a pretty one.

The boy – man – was backing away from him, wand out.

"Who are you? Where am I?"

"Don't be afraid," Albus said. "It's just a bit of Beltane magic, I think. I was wishing for some company, and then you appeared. Were you wishing for anything?"

"Uh." The man ran his hands through his hair as if he needed a moment to think. "I was wishing to meet my namesake, actually."

"Unfortunately, you just got me. I'm pretty sure no one is named for me." He frowned, thinking no parent in their right mind would name a child for him, after what he'd done. "I'm Albus Dumbledore."

The man's eyes widened, and it was clear he'd heard some of the story at least. He looked away, remembering that Muggle saying about being careful what you wished for.

"I'm, um, Severus. Severus Potter."

"Potter? I don't remember the Potters having a Severus, though you do have the look of them. They usually pick rather Muggle names like James and Henry and Edward. I went to school with Richard, though he was a few years below me."

Severus was still wide-eyed, though he nodded.

"I'm sorry your wish brought you here instead of to the other Severus. He was a Muggle saint, wasn't he?"

"Something like that. You can call me Al. My middle name is, um, Albert."

"That might be where the magic got mixed up. Albert. Albus. They're pretty close. I'm sorry for talking so much. It's, ah, been some time since I had someone to talk to."

"Maybe you should get a pet. An owl. Or a phoenix."

"A phoenix?" Albus laughed. "Where would I find one of those?"

"No one ever adequately answered that question," the man muttered under his breath, leaving Albus feeling confused.

"I was going to celebrate Beltane with the traditional ritual." Albus paused as Al blushed and he was quick to reassure the man. "I didn't mean – I don't... Not celebrate the fires."

Merlin, his face must be as red as his hair and his body sure liked the idea of enjoying _that_ particular tradition with the man. He prayed that the kilt would hide his erection even as he knew it was a futile wish. Perhaps Al wouldn't look down. No. The eyes flicked down and widened then once again looked up into his own. He gasped. He'd never seen eyes quite that shade of green before.

"I don't know the traditional ritual," Al said softly and Albus shrugged, a habit his father had deplored.

"You can just copy me."

They stood side by side and Albus allowed the magic to flow through him. The power was intoxicating- it always had been. That was why the mountains were good for him; they were large enough to be safe from him. He was hoping that Al would be safe, until the boy joined hands with him. Power tingled through his hands, almost as strong as his own. His cock, which had settled down at the prospect of the ritual, began to twitch again as the magic swirled around them.

He allowed the words to rise from his memory and escape into the circle the stones made surrounding them. He'd been leading the ritual since his father's incarceration; he did not need to concentrate on it. Could concentrate, instead, on the power swirling like a hurricane around them.

The ritual welcomed new life. Welcomed spring and love and the green shoots still struggling to poke their way through the soil in these high mountain altitudes. Welcomed new starts.

He shook his head to wipe away that thought. He didn't need a new start. _This_ was his new start, this life on the mountains. Still, the energy caught him and he wondered for a second about a new start with this Al, who was pretty and powerful and a Potter and likely very not interested at all, but one wish had come true tonight, so thinking about the boy was not going to cause any damage.

With the last words of the ritual the magic fell to the ground around them, seeping into the earth and renewing the web of power that circled the world.

He felt as if he'd just climbed to the top of the steepest mountain in his range and struggled to draw breath. He was conscious of Al's eyes on his bare chest as he sucked in air.

"Now we feast," he said. Al looked surprised, but quickly bent to help. A bit of magic brought the bird to almost-cooked, and they finished it off on the fire for some of that lovely charred taste. Some wild roots were added to the fire as well and when it was finally done it was as fine a feast as any he'd had at school.

Albus didn't let it show, but he was aware that they were only talking about him. Al turned any questions away, but was fascinated with anything he had to say. It was nice, remembering how to talk, but he wanted to know something about where this green-eyed temptation had come from.

"Oh, I'm the middle child," he said, giving not a lot of other information. "An older brother and a younger sister. We were tutored at home. My father didn't want us to go to Hogwarts."

He sensed that there was a lie there, though he wasn't sure which part was the untruth – the home tutoring or the siblings.

"I have some lemon drops," Al said suddenly, stopping Albus' contemplation. "For sweets, I mean. I didn't know that I should bring pudding."

"I've never had a lemon drop before. Do they taste good?"

Al's eyes had widened rather comically and he seemed to choke back a giggle. "Sour and sweet all at once. I like them."

Albus accepted one from the tin and thought them a bit too tart for his tastes. Still, he kept it in his mouth, not wishing to seem impolite.

"My family has a Beltane tradition, if you don't mind."

Albus quirked an eyebrow at Al.

"We talk about what we want to let go of in the New Year. The things we don't want to take with us."

Albus wondered briefly if Al was a Legilimens; there was so much he couldn't let go of.

"You go first," Al said and Albus realised he'd agreed.

"There's nothing-" he started.

"Liar," Al interrupted. "You wouldn't be alone at Beltane wishing for company if you were happy with your life."

"The life of a recluse suits me well."

"Then why wish for company?"

Albus glared at him. The glare had always made anyone he aimed it towards shut up. Al just raised his eyebrow and those green eyes _twinkled_. They twinkled and they stared calmly at him until Albus felt the need to fill the silence.

"I killed my sister," he said.

Al had obviously already known; Albus knew the man had recognised his name. The story had made it into the _Prophet_ despite the power of the Dumbledore name. The whole story spilled out of him, of love and betrayal and Gellert and his pretty face and ugly soul and those words. Those _words_. 'Better this way' and 'needed to be controlled'.

'At least it wasn't either of us.'

He raised his hand to his cheek to wipe away a dampness that hadn't been there before and found his face pressed against Al's chest. He pulled away, embarrassed at his loss of control. Al stood and placed another log on the fire, staring at it until the fire caught it and the flames danced higher into the sky.

"I'm sorry," Albus said.

"It's a night for letting go," Al said, easily.

Albus cleared his throat; it still felt thick. "What are you letting go of?"

"An obsession," Al said. Albus couldn't be sure, since the fire threw him into silhouette, but he thought Al's eyes were on him when he said that. He could _feel_ them on him. "Feeling ashamed."

Albus stood and walked closer, wanting to see Al's face. He didn't usually find people so hard to read. "What do you feel ashamed of?" he asked.

Al studied him for a second, before lifting a hand to cup his cheek. "This," he said. Then he stretched his neck and pressed his lips to Albus' and all Albus could do was gasp in shock. The gasp wasn't meant as an invitation, but Al took it as one; Albus let Al's tongue slip past his lips to brush his own, letting the other man take control.

Warm hands grasped his waist and Albus stepped into the embrace. The kilt was once again proving it's uselessness at hiding arousal, but Albus didn't mind so much this time as Al's knee pushed underneath it, the strange material rubbing against the bare skin of his thighs.

He pulled away. "This isn't-" Right. Good. What normal men do. He didn't finish his sentence because Al lowered his hands to the bare skin beneath the kilt and began to push it up.

He moved his own hands to the fastening of Al's trousers. "This is a very strange garment," he said as he struggled with the button.

"Jeans. They're called jeans."

Al reached down to unsnap the button and fiddle with the fly and then Albus could reach in and pull his hard length from its confinement. It was as hot as a lit cauldron in his hand.

At the touch, Al stepped closer and pushed the kilt up completely, bringing their two hard cocks together. Albus murmured a charm that conjured oil, and quickly spread it around. Al's fingers threaded with his and they moved firmly across the hot flesh.

Fingers pressed deeply into his arse and a forehead fell against his shoulder. "Gods, I'm wanking with _Albus Dumbledore_ ," he thought he heard Al say, but when he drew back to question the man, firm lips pressed against his own and he forgot what he'd been about to say. Al moved to press kisses to cheek, throat and shoulder and Albus shivered at the feel of stubble scratching the delicate skin.

The pressure was building in his balls and Albus sought Al's mouth again, wanting to be kissed into oblivion; not wanting to be thinking of Gellert as the orgasm overtook him.

Al's hips were moving now, thrusting forward so that cocks and hands and lips were all moving in a delicious haze of friction that was coiling in Albus' balls. The hand grasping them tightened and a whispered "Fuck," reached his ears and that was all it took for him to spill his seed over their cocks and hands and Al's belly and a heartbeat later Al joined him in his release.

Their semen dripped off their cocks, spilling onto the ground and soaking their fertility into the earth, as was right on this day, even if theirs was a union which could never bear fruit.

Al stepped away from him and performed a quick cleaning charm before tucking himself away. He was looking down at his feet. "I need to go home"

"Still ashamed?"

"No!" There was a fierce kiss, desperate hands clutching his back. "But I can't stay here."

"Just apparate home. You _can_ apparate, can't you?"

Al nodded, though he still looked unsure. "You should go back to London," he said. "Play around with dragon's blood for a while."

Albus raised an eyebrow, but Al just smiled. "It was an... honour to meet you. An honour and a pleasure."

This time the kiss was gentle, and Albus could sense the farewell in it.

Al stepped away and raised a hand as he disappeared. Albus stared at the spot for some time before he finally moved. He would go to his hut and gather his things. It was time to leave his mountains and go home.


End file.
